


Remarkably, unremarkable – A Mummy and Father Holmes tale

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A new team member, Better times are coming, Home is where the spies are, John and Sherlock save the day, John is summoned, M/M, all ends well, headed home, make the world a better place, mention of rape and other bad things, no actual discription of the bad things, performing a task, please do not read if these are triggers for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: Our guys are summoned by the Queen! No, not that one. Mummy! We meet Mummy and Father Holmes. Are you ready for that? I am. I can hardly wait.Okay dear reader, this started out as a lark, then after a tiny bit of googling I found something more sinister and savage that really should be addressed. So this fic will have some darkness now. Mention of rape and other atrocities, but no actual description of aforementioned. So spys and our guys are still here with a dose of Mummy and Father Holmes added to the mix. In the end though, it does have good vibes and a new addition to the team. Hopefully, this will make up for the darkness that shows its head. Please if any of this sounds stressing or trigger, do not read.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. When the Queen calls

**Author's Note:**

> The contents of this story have changed quite a bit. Please read tags.

Sherlock can remember the first time he’d laid eyes on John; he’d been remarkably, unremarkable at first glace. Then as he’d deduced the doctor/soldier’s life. His penchant for danger, his propensity for protective behavior, his vast and varied sexual experiences; Sherlock had been drawn to the chameleon blonde who hid his wolf-like appetites beneath his outwardly oatmeal colored jumpers.

Fixing his flatmate had been as they say a ‘piece of cake’. A manipulation of his mental state had been a simple distraction. Drawing John into his orbit and divesting him of any concerns he’d had about Sherlock as a potential flatmate was effortless. 

Little by little Sherlock found that his tricks and manipulations were not only effortless, but also somehow slightly addictive. Well, Sherlock knew he had an addictive personality, that was a given. Yet, he’d never been addicted to a human being. 

This was totally new, somewhat exciting and at all times a fascinating undertaking. Because making slight, barely discernible changes in John, found Sherlock experiencing inner changes too. How strangely captivating.

(-_-)

John had been drawn to Sherlock immediately. His exotic looks, that cheeky little wink at John as he was exiting the morgue, stage left. His shark-like intelligence coupled with that look of danger in his sectoral heterochromia eyes that shimmered from sea green to icy blue. All these elements twisted and turned inside John’s gaydar. Yeah, John’s not gay, more a omnisexual being. He’d never let gender identity be a barrier to his relationships. 

They’d been an odd coupling. A crazy, cart-wheeling mix of strangely exotic, homicidal hunting genius and a homebody, crack shot surgeon who has the courage of a herd of lions. It was love at first site for John. Sherlock had “seen” the real John, but it took a number of heart beats for him to find out just how desperately he needed John in his life.

(-_-)

John fills his extra large breakfast plate and walks it over to kitchen table. Turning back, he brings several cups of steaming tea along as well. Sitting down, he sets an extra fork and napkin next to his plate. Rumpled and sleep worn, Sherlock emerges from the sitting room via their bedroom into the blinding light of the warm kitchen overheads. The aroma of breakfast having brought him to the table as surly as clotting blood beneath a cooling corpse. 

Clothed only in a well used sheet, Sherlock plops down in his chair next to John; purloins his cup of tea and groans with pleasure as the just hot enough, just sweet enough liquid soothes his awaking hard drive.

“Are we awake?” John ventures a question with a smile on his lips. 

“We,” Sherlock blinks, “are barely alive after a night like last night.”

“I thought it was bloody marvelous.” John is cutting up his sausage. 

With little or no thought, Sherlock plucks up the spare fork and harpoons the sausage piece nearest to him. Mouthing the morsel, he hums in appreciation of the tasty tidbit.

“It was as bloody marvelous as it was magnificently unprecedented. I’m not sure what got into you?”

“I think it was the other way around, actually.” John smirks. 

Sherlock attempts to be suave as he picks up a triangle of toast with amble amounts of jam on it. 

He munches it causally while he sips his perfect tea. Humming at the wonderfulness of John’s breakfast world. The next triangle of toast has apple butter on it. His second favorite toast additive.

“So what’s on for today?” John is munching his share of breakfast.

“No new texts from Lestrade.” Sherlock begins.

John’s mobile chimes and he lifts it from its place on the table.

“What the f...” John unlocks the device one handed to read the text. “You are not going to believe this.”

“Mycroft?” 

“It’s your mother.”

Sherlock coughs, gripping his triangle of toast with strength of a Goliath, so that it won’t be lost to him forever.

“What does it say.” He hesitates a moment as he stares at John.

{{Please be advised that your presence is required. Mummy.}}

Sherlock is already in motion. Showering, shaving and getting in fighting shape are his immediate intention.

Slowly, John eats the last bite of breakfast and stands, pushing his chair back. He’s going to have to change clothes and pack several over night travel cases. When Mummy calls, there is no denying that summons.

(-_-)

The Bentley awaits them out front of 221. Fredrick is holding the boot open to put their travel bags in. Then he herds them into the back of the luxury vehicle.

“An idea?” John queries.

“None whatsoever.” Fredrick answers. 

Soothing music is playing in the background. John recognizes that it’s Sherlock playing a concert on his violin. He smiles warmly at Sherlock who begins to relax. The trip is uneventful and only mildly nerve wracking.

(-_-)

The outer gates open as the Bentley approaches and enters.

Negara opens the front door for them. The aged head of the household radiates a motherly warmth toward her charges. John knows that everyone who works for the Holmes’ is more than what they seem.

Mummy and Father Holmes are both retired high level Spooks. Each and every one of their ‘employees’ are also retired, semiretired or Ghosted (Ghosted = reported KIA *killed in action*) Spooks also.

The summer home that resides on the Holmes estate is really a clever ruse. Disguising a beehive of activity in the lower reaches of the multilevel subterranean structure. Apparently some spooks never retire.

(-_-)

Sherlock heads for the elevator. Wanting to see what his father is up down in the lab.

John knows that Frederick will see to their luggage. So he ambles out into garden where he runs into Frang Holmes, Sherlock’s father.

John is always enchanted by Frang. It is like looking at what Sherlock will become as he ages. The same tall lean physique. His once shock of dark, curly hair is now snow white and the excess drawn back into a neat ponytail. Laugh lines crinkle around his eyes and mouth; his broad smile is beyond beguiling. 

“John, so nice to see you.” Frang comes forward removing his gardening gloves, stuffing them into an apron pocket as he extends his hands to shake hands with John.

“Frank.” (Frang uses this English derivative of his original name) John does a double handed shake that Frank reciprocates.

“I’m guessing that Absurdia has asked you here?” Frank speaks frankly.

“Any idea what’s up?” John inclines his head, hoping to find some information about the summons.

“Da!” Sherlock has found his father as he enters the garden. He comes right up to his father and Frank engulfs his youngest son in an audacious hug. Sherlock returns the hug as best he can, though he is restricted by the bear hug. 

John giggles a bit at the sight. Sherlock gives him a hard eyed stare.

“Sherlock, it’s been too long since you’ve visited. I’ve several experiments that you might find interesting" Frank easily distracts his son.

Sherlock immediately perks up. Attention fully placed upon his father.

“No body knows why we were called here.” John confides.

“Does it really matter. We are here at the Queen’s behest.” Sherlock is already leading his father toward the elevators. “Are you coming John?”

“I think I’ll go to the kitchen and have some tea.” He turns the other way as the two Holmes’ wend their way to the lower lab.

(-_-)

The kitchen isn’t huge, but it has everything needed to produce snacks to multi course meals. The kettle is on the stove, piping hot. John pulls out a cup, a tea pot and some creamer. Shaking leaves from a canister of Earl Grey into the pot. Taking a tray with pot, strainer and cup to the nearby table.

Negara enters and pulls out some of John’s favorite biscuits from the cupboard. Placing them on a plate, she brings them to John along with an empty cup for herself. She sits down, smiling brightly at the younger man.

“Are we in hot water?” John asks eyes a twinkle at his pun.

“No, not even a little.” She lifts the pot to pour tea through the strainer into each cup.

“Thanks, I was worried there for a while. She doesn’t usually text me.”

“You’ve noticed that Sherlock isn’t always enthusiastic about coming when called.” 

“Yeah, it’s like herding a big fluffy, curly haired cat.”

They both laugh at that image. 

“I think she wants you to do something for her. But don’t quote me.”

“Okay.” John lifts a biscuit and gives it a good nosh.

(-_-)

Everyone is at dinner. Frederic, Negara, Sherlock, Frank, John and, of course, Absurdia Holmes.

She had been a stunning woman once. Now age and a hard life had stolen some of that from her. Though if you looked at her through Frank’s adoring eyes, you couldn’t help but find her flawless and fair. Her once svelte figure, now suffered from the same expanse issue that Mycroft contended with. 

Dinner in heated serving pans sit on the side board. So everyone can serve themselves. 

Sherlock is unusually quiet for once. There is a normal flow of small talk and pleasantries. 

John is basking in the feel of family. His own fractured and deceased family was never like this. It is good to be a part of this adopted family where he’d always felt accepted, honored and dare he say unconditionally loved.

“John, after dinner would you come down to the ISCS room?”

“Abs, possibly let the boys have a night’s rest before you dig into things.” Frank interjects.

“It’s okay Frank, we’ve been resting up lately.” John states as he beams at Absurdia.

“Is that what we are calling it now?” Sherlock gives a John a quirky eye squint.

Frederic and Negara look at each other knowingly.

Dinner continues on. Frederick says he will take care of dishes as everyone gets tea to go with their dessert. 

(-_-)

Frank and Negara clear away the dessert dishes and everyone gets up. 

John goes to Absurdia as they move toward the elevators. Sherlock takes a deep breath and follows.

“Oh, you don’t have to come along Sherlock.” 

“Mummy, if you are going to entangle John in your machinations. I _will_ be involved.”

“As you wish.” She replies her lips so reminiscent of Sherlock’s that John knows exactly where he got them from.

The familiar phrase hits his John’s heart and he wonders if Absurdia has ever read The Princess Bride.


	2. Saving them both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mummy's task. John and Sherlock are up for it. Frang clearly wants to help too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is mention of murder and rape in this chapter. If these are trigger points for you please don't read.

John is always gobsmacked when he enters the lift at the Holmes house and descends into the larger reality that is underneath the elegant mansion home. Beneath lay a technological complex; teaming with people whose sole mandate is to protect and serve the British people; and, yes, of course, the world. Some of the individuals are in training, yet the majority are working to their greater purpose. All the marvels of modern technology are present here, as well as old school spy craft. John is beyond delirious with visions of James Bond running through his head. Even though he has nominal access to this nether spy world. It is enough to give him illusions of being in league with his favorite spy.

John, Absurdia and Sherlock enter her office. It is minimalist in the way of luxury. Wall to wall tech in all other aspects. John sits in a chair facing her desk as Sherlock slithers around the perimeters of the room, touching equipment; peering at screens. 

“Ah!” A mild electrical shock causes Sherlock to jump.

“Dear me,” Absurdia teases light heartedly. “were you injured by your incessant curiosity?”

“You did that on purpose.” Sherlock snaps. 

“Sherlock,” John coaxes, “come sit down. Now.” 

Lifting his chin, in slight defiance. Sherlock breathes deeply and moves to sit in the chair next to his doctor. 

“We are all accounted for, Absurdia. Now, how can we help you?” John puts on his best helpful doctor face.

“Don’t you have minions to perform your little tasks, Mummy. Hundreds of minions waiting for you to snap your fingers or put out a black ops order?” Sherlock gives a perfunctory snap of his elegant fingers.

Absurdia leans back in her chair and smiles at her youngest son and his dashing doctor. She approves of this relationship and how it is changing her son. 

“Well, lambkins, this isn’t really that kind of undertaking.”

Turning to look at Sherlock. John pantomimes the word ‘lambkins’ with his mouth. Sherlock sits up even straighter and gives his John and beloved Mummy a put upon stare.

“I would like you to take charge of a transport for me John. You are the one person who can do this vital job.”

“Mummy, John’s not a delivery boy.” Sherlock crosses his long, slender arms across his chest as he huffs a positive breath toward John in complete support of his telling Mummy no.

“Let’s here this out.” John gives a glorious smile that melts Sherlock’s heart. Melts it down to little puddles of lambkins.

John takes Sherlock’s hand in his. The contact is always welcome, but never more than in the super secret confines of Mummy’s subterranean spy-ganza organization. 

“Do you remember Sher, John?”

“Sher, oh you mean Lion. Yes, he was our Afghan interpreter. Great guy.”

“As you know we owe a tremendous debt to those courageous Afghan persons who volunteered to interpret for our men on the ground.”

“I was under the impression that these brave souls were to be given citizenship here once their work was done. They can’t stay in Afghanistan. It is too dangerous for them.”

“Yes, that was the plan, John. Yet as you know, the wheels of bureaucracy do not turn quickly or smoothly.”

“Why are we not surprised?” Sherlock ventures.

“This is about Lion’s family.” Absurdia’s voice takes on an edge of darkness.

“I remember he had a lovely wife and two kids. Are they okay?” John leans forward in his chair anxiety in every line of his body.

“He is here. Unfortunately, he was unable to bring his family with him immediately.” Absurdia begins.

“No.” John is distraught.

“The bad news is that his family was accosted by insurgents. His son was killed, his wife raped and murdered in front of her daughter. The one glimmer of hope was that one of our patrols was in the vicinity at the time and intervened. They rescued the child before she could be kidnapped and sold into slavery.”

John is definitely disturbed by this knowledge of people he knew and cared for when he was on active duty.

“Asmaan, how is she?”

“That is the crux of our problem. She is severely traumatized. She believes her father is dead. As he promised that the family would join him in his new country.” She pauses briefly. “There is one more thing. Sher has been hospitalized with cancer. A brain tumor. He has tried calling to talk to Asmaan, but she doesn’t recognize him in his present state. He’s had medical treatments and surgeries that have affected his appearance.”

John stands suddenly and moves to the back of room. Clearly overcome with the tragic events revealed.

Sherlock moves to his side. Encompassing John in a comforting embrace. John accepts Sherlock’s empathy; looking up into Sherlock’s eyes, he gathers himself. Then he leads Sherlock to return to Absurdia.

“We want you to go to her. She knows you, trusts you. Bring her home to her father. That is my request John.”

“When can I leave?” 

“When can WE leave?” Sherlock states succinctly.

Absurdia gives them both a smile of gratitude mixed with heart felt pride. 

(-_-)

Frank enters the office, a questioning look on his face. 

“Our boys are going to bring Asmaan home.” Absurdia beams.

Frank comes up behind the boys and places his hands on their shoulders. Squeezing firmly. Clearly as happy and proud of them as his wife.

“I should go see Lion. Let him know that we are going. I’d also like to look at his medical records.”

“While you are doing that, I’ll go home pack several overnight bags for us.” Sherlock turns to leave.

“I’ll have Mycroft arrange flights for you. Contact him as soon as you are ready to go.” Absurdia and Frank exchange little nods; then Frank turns to accompany Sherlock.

Matching Sherlock’s long stride, Frank clears his throat.

“I know this type of situation isn’t your forte, Sherlock. You will help John. I will be available to help you help him.”

“That...would be very fortuitous.” Sherlock stops at the lift. Pressing the button to ascend. He lets his eyes linger on his father. The Holmes have an unspoken body language and a plethora of telling glances; their own silent Holmesian communications. Frank knows he was away saving the world much of his son’s early lives. Sherlock only understood the full measure of his father later, when he could comprehend the observations that he beheld. 

Absurdia was not distant, but she too was often distracted by the great works that she was destined to perform. She always made sure that her family had some cohesiveness. Being a Spook could be an unforgiving task master. Now that those burdens were partially lifted. His parents did put forth effort to be a part of his life. 

Father and son enter the lift. Frank takes a mobile from the breast pocket of his jacket. “This mobile is connected via covert satellites. It will enable you to contact me from anywhere at any time via voice or visual.”

Sherlock takes the mobile, tucks it into his Belstaff. “Spook Skype.” The corners of Sherlock’s mouth tip upwards.

“We call it Specter Vision.” Frank intones. His own constrained smile mirroring Sherlock’s. 

Sherlock shakes his head at the name. “I will keep in touch. Would you like to come with me to the flat? We can talk further.”

“Great. I’ll drive. I’d like to hear more about John.” 

Sherlock slows his pace. “He’s remarkably, unremarkable.” 

“Like a pirate captain in disguise?” 

“Da, you remember!” A surprised Sherlock tilts his head as he honors his Da with a genuinely humorous grin. 

(-_-)

Sherlock catches up with John after he’s met with Sher. Frank is driving them to the base where a military transport will take them to the Afghan base where Asmaan is. 

“He’s doing remarkably well considering the loss of several of his family members and the diagnosis of brain cancer. His prognosis is guarded. He is stressed about his daughter. They both will be better when we get them back together.”

“It will be six hours plus to get there. This is a good thing that we are doing, John. It should be uneventful. A quick in and out.”

Taking their seats, they hold hands. Sherlock can feel John’s tension. What can he do to help his doctor save two lives? How can he help his John?

Sherlock presses an interesting little known button which allows him to lower the armrest. He gathers John into a one armed hug. John leans into his consulting lover. A smile hovers on his lips. Closing his eyes he is going to rest.

Sherlock lifts his SV mobile, one handed he dials the only number. Da’s visage appears on the screen. Sherlock nods at his father holding the mobile near his lap so that Frank can see John sleeping in his arm. Frank tilts his head minutely, eyes blinking back moisture, he gives Sherlock a loving look. Father and son communicate silently for the long hours it takes to get to Asmaan’s side.


	3. Union and United

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The union of Asmaan and her beloved father. The United Holmes-Watson front. One plus two is three. Coming together and find new strengths is what it is all about.

“I’m very impressed, Abs. Sherlock has significantly changed his ways.”

“He’s still the curious, caution to the wind, intelligent, sharp tongued lambkins that we raised, my dear.” Absurdia states with her sensual mouth.

Frank looks at her with eyes of adoration. “Yes, but loving John has brought a certain level of selflessness that he has always tried hard to conceal.”

“They do make a great team don’t they.” Absurdia places her shorter more compact hand over the longer, more elegant hand of her dedicated husband as they lay curled around each other in bed. 

“I’m hoping that sometime in the future he marries his Doctor.” Frank’s smile is whimsical. 

Absurdia looks contemplative. “I never thought we would ever get to this place.”

They both remember the rebellious young man. The experimentation with drugs. The long days and longer nights worrying about their youngest son as he carried on with his terribly exciting and troubling life.

“When Detective Inspector Lestrade gave his life purpose. I thought that was going to be the best that we could hope for.” Frank reminisces about that turn around.

Frank strokes Absurdia’s long white hair remembering when it was short and ginger much as Mycrofts’ had been as a youngster.

“We should do something for John. To show our appreciation for all he has done for Sherlock and for us.” Frank suggested. 

“What would you propose?”

“Let’s think about it and him. He is a profoundly good man. To accept Sherlock; with all his eccentricities and flaws. To love him as much or more than we do. We will have to come up with something extraordinary.”

Absurdia considers her husbands thoughts. “Surely, we can think of something.

“Lights out.” Frank says to the AI controlling the inner sanctum of their bedroom and the lights turn off.

(-_-)

It had been Mycroft who had delved into Dr. Watson’s past. Absurdia and Frang were certain that Sherlock would have been appalled upon finding out if they had done it. Once Mycroft had produced the file on Watson, however, everyone found it exceptionally comforting. A man of action, of committed and unquestionable loyalty; a man born of hardship and tragedy, now filled with compassion, courage and great capacity for love. Everything pointed to John Watson being eligible for knighthood, sainthood and the Nobel Prize for being a terrific human being. Then Absurdia and Frang had actually met John. Watching him interact with Sherlock they had dared to hope that their youngest son had found someone prodigious to love him.

(-_-)

Frang brought tea and scones out to the dinning area where Absurdia sat typing onto a tablet. 

“Clayton says he can help us out.” She is ecstatic that Frank’s idea is probably going to be very easy to fulfill. 

Leaning in, Frang kisses his wife’s temple. “With that done, I think I’ll retire to the surveillance room to monitor our boy’s progress.

“Keep me updated, lover.” Absurdia lifts her scone and tea after she has tucked her tablet into her carry bag. She heads for her subterranean office. Her calendar is definitely full today.

(-_-)

John and Sherlock have arrived at the base where Asmaan is being cared for. 

“I packed your camo kit.” Sherlock hands John his over night luggage. “Thought it might help you connect with Asmaan. She will recognize you more readily when you are dressed as when she knew you.”

John has been in a rush since they landed. Now he stops to look at Sherlock. His lover’s exotic eyes are always astonishingly beautiful. Now they shine with an inner tenderness that transfixes John’s heart. 

“Thank you, love. You’re right. I’ve been so focused on getting her to her father as soon as possible, I didn’t stop to consider how best to present myself to her. This will help us reconnect.”

Sherlock smiles; his dimples show as his face lights up. John knows the dimple smile is not something Sherlock gives away often. John bear hugs his lover with all his strength.

“I don’t know what did to ever deserve you, Lambkins. I’m just so happy I did.”

Sherlock leans back from the hug as John grips him tighter, cringing inside and out. “You’re never going to let that go are you?”

They both begin to laugh as Sherlock leans back in and kisses John with the intensity of a consulting lover. 

(-_-)

John dressed in his fatigues is ready to meet Asmaan. Sherlock is chuffed. John looks so hot in his camo kit. It still fits him like a military glove. He’s going to have to have him wear it more often at home. In the bedroom. In bed. 

(-_-)

After speaking to the people in charge of the orphaned children at the base. They learn what needs to be done to help Asmaan deal with all the changes that are about to happen. They both listen quietly as they are advised of all that this young child has gone through so far. John and Sherlock are directed to where she is. Everyone knows John is there to take her to her father.

(-_-)

John approaches a small child who stands watching the other children play. “Asmaan.” He speaks to the child in Dari. As the child turns, Sherlock can see she has Down’s Syndrome. Sherlock feels a pang in his heart. Observing closer, he can tell she has suffered from severe malnutrition. That is why she is so very small for her age. 

Asmaan’s face lights up as she extends her arms toward John. Her joyous sounds fill the air as John lifts her into the air bringing her down into the safety of his loving embrace. She hugs him so very tight. They are both crying.

Sherlock watches as John kisses and hugs Asmaan as she cries and laughs at the same time. He turns slightly so that he’s not in their direct line of sight. Eyes glistening, he purses his lips into a tight line. Taking a deep breath; he gathers himself. How can all this heart break befall such a young child? 

Sherlock stands apart, waiting silently, watching. John is down on one knee, Asmaan siting on his bent knee listening. She appears to be limited in her ability to verbalize.

Standing slowly, John takes her by the hand. Leading her to where Sherlock waits.

“Sherlock.” John takes Sherlock’s hand and brings it to his heart. Showing Asmaan that they are heart mates. She gazes from one man to the other. Gripping John’s other hand, she moves behind John as she peeks at the very tall man.

“We are going to have play it by ear on how she handles this. I’ve told her that Sher is alive and waiting for her in a far place. That we have to travel in the air inside a big bird to go to where he lives. I’m not sure how much of all this she understands.”

Sherlock bends down low so that he is on the child’s level. Showing her his empty hand, he closes it quickly, then opens it right in front of her. To her amazement there is a tiny fuzzy cloth doll in his out stretched palm. Deftly he plucks the doll up and offers it to her. Eyes wide she takes the miniature being into her diminutive hand as she beams at Sherlock. Rubbing the soft cloth against her cheek. 

“Well, I think you’ve made a friend for life now.” John radiates happiness.

John takes Sherlock’s hand and the three walk out of the orphanage together.

(-_-)

Though there are a few rough patches as they made their way home. Asmaan clings to John as he comforts her as much as he can. Sherlock is always there. Steadfast. A smile and a magic trick to make Asmaan laugh in delight or gobble up offered magicked chocolates. 

“Thank the stars, she’s a chocoholic.” Sherlock comments.

“You are going to show me how you do it when this is over.”

(-_-)

Holding both John and Sherlock’s hands, Asmaan walks into the hospital where her father is waiting for them.

Sher sits in a wheel chair. His face swollen from treatments. His head swathed in bandages. Even John has a hard time believing it is the same man he had known in Afghanistan.

Sher calls out to his most beloved child. His voice cracking in tearful emotion. Asmaan looks up to John for confirmation. He smiles at her. Kneeling, he presses her hand in Sher’s direction. 

Hesitatingly, Asmaan walks toward the man who is supposed to be her father. He speaks soothingly. Softly, words so familiar and loving. As each step brings her closer to him and further from her fears. Till finally she is running into his arms. 

Climbing onto his lap, the small child smothers him in her love. They both weep and wail together. Their tears starting to wash away the time and distance that had cruelly separated them. 

Sher looks to John as he holds his daughter tenderly. Silently, he says thank you, again and again. 

John takes up Sherlock’s hand and kisses the back of it. Waving good bye to Sher. They leave father and daughter to begin to heal.

“They will be alright John. Mycroft has seen to it.”

“But what of all the other interpreters that are still out there, Sherlock? How can we help them?”

“We’ve saved this one. Now that we know that the problem exists, we’ll have to put more energy into saving more. We can do that, John.” Sherlock is confident.

(-_-)

The Holmes estate looms on the horizon. John and Sherlock sit in the back of the Bentley as Fredrick drives them towards their next meeting with the Queen.

They are not as agitated or concerned about this meeting as they were the last time. Up into the main house they stride, hand in hand. Smiles in their hearts and on their lips.

Absurdia and Frank greet them with warmth and informed smiles

After everyone is settled, tea and cake is been proffered and politely snarfed down. 

“Okay, mummy, I think we all know that something is up. You haven’t brought us here to soak Negara’s cake in our tea. To what do we owe this auspicious occasion?”

“Clayton, you can come in now.” Abs barely raises her voice.

A man enters from the garden door way. He’s about Frank’s age. His weathered face giving him a wise and worldly visage. At his side is a huge German Shepard dog. 

“Sherlock, John. This is Clayton Cook. He trains recruits for the MWD (Military Work Dog).” 

John and Sherlock look at each other questioning the sanity of all in the room.

“John, Frank and I wanted to honor you for all that you have done for our family. For our Sherlock.” 

John lowers his gaze. Then quirks a questioning eye at Sherlock. “Is this your doing?”

“I am as much in the dark about this as you are, John.”

Clayton comes forward and hands the lead for the dog to John. Who takes it graciously. The dog turns and sits at John’s side. John extends his hand for the dog to sniff, then pats the dogs head, rubbing his large ears. The dog tilts his head leaning into the welcomed, knowing touch. 

“John a little history for you. This is Lance. He was never really going to be in the MWD. He is a German Shepard/Great Dane mix. That is why he is so large. His size made him an unlikely candidate, but Lance had other plans. He is amazingly intelligent and has actually taken on quite a few different skills. He can detect explosives, a variety of illicit drugs, is capable of taking down bad guys easily. And even does a really great job as a comfort dog. I’ve never know another dog to tackle so many different skill sets.”

“Impressive. Are we meant to be taking on this domesticated mammal as a crime fighting partner? Surely, you’re aware that we live in the flat that this fauna will have a hard time turning around in?”

John groans. “Sherlock.” John gets down on his knees, throws his arms around Lance and ruffles his fur.

Lance is equally enthralled with John Watson and begins licking and nudging at his new found friend. 

“Obviously, John is a dog person as well as a Sherlock whisperer.” Frank is ecstatic that his idea looks to be a good one.

“Well, that level of skills will add to our overall abilities. And John does have a great penchant for walking. So I’m afraid I will have to reconsider my original arguments on why we can not take on Lance.” 

Sherlock is quietly content to allow Lance to sniff him. Since he is also covered with John’s scent, Lance is also considering that he, too, will find a place in his heart for Sherlock Holmes.

Lance huffs a great breath into Sherlock’s face.

“I think he’s also willing to take you on board too.” John’s smile is ever so slightly sarcastic.

“I’m so gratified.” Sherlock runs his long elegant hand into Lance’s luxurious fur as he takes John’s hand.  
Then out of nowhere, Lance lifts his paw to place it on top of John and Sherlock’s joined one.

“I think that makes it unanimous.” Frank states. “Shall we all take advantage of this beautiful day and have lunch in the garden?”

Lance barks once, wagging his tail in congruence.

“The new pack leader has spoken.” Sherlock admonishes with a twinkle in his eye. 

Everyone laughs at Sherlock’s sudden fantastic admission.


End file.
